Killing Loneliness
by Rei Kiri
Summary: Things weren't going as good as everyone thought they would. Post FMAB ending, contains spoilers. Ed/Roy.


**A/N:** I've been working on that one on and off for almost two months now^^" I hope the final version is good enough...

I dedicate this story to my friend Chen, who wanted to see Ed suffering. Blame her! Not me!

I would like to thank my friend Darya for being an awesome beta as always :)

**SPOILERS: The entire manga, FMA Brotherhood ending.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist nor any of the characters in it.

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**KILLING LONELINESS**

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Never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down, never stay awake when you can sleep. That was the way he always lived his life, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, circumstances rarely gave him the opportunity to choose, and his path had been decided for him – always stay in motion, always walk forward, never give up. He had a mission, and no force in the world could move him from that.

But now his mission was done. The one goal he set for himself in his life had been achieved, and put into well use. It was a glorious victory, and Al's retrieved body was like a brilliant monument for Ed's attainment, healthy and feeling and expressing and _there_ and there was nothing in the world that could make the older Elric happier than that little fact.

But it had left him empty.

He tried to fill that hollow space within him; he tried putting effort into his relationship with Winry, tried seeing a new mission in helping Alphonse build his life again, but the reality was that it wasn't enough. Al didn't need him anymore, not in the same way, eventually moving on and living his own life. Of course, he believed he was only doing Ed a favor by stepping away, allowing Ed space for his relationship with Winry, but the older brother longed for something more, his body aching for movement, for more action, for a goal to be achieved. He needed something to fill his mind, occupy his brain and leave no room for anything else. That was the way he worked, that was the only thing he knew, ever since he was little. It had started when their father left – his mission, as a young boy, was to make his mother happy and see her smile again. That was enough to fulfill him; until she died. Then the alchemy took its place, and he longed to learn more and get stronger so he could bring her back. He hauled Al with him, making it his mission as well and thus bringing forward his third, and last task – regaining his younger brother's body, and allow him to live his life as a normal human again.

Without it, there was nothing left within him, and despite his efforts to make a difference, he wasn't able to overcome that.

That was why he came back to the army; he had left it when Al's body was retrieved, and he knew the army won't miss him too much. Without his alchemy, he was no good in the forces, being left with nothing useful but his physical strength and his brains. But the army had no shortage of people like that, and he was dismissed with a broad smile and a request to not forget his former comrades and to invite them to his wedding.

As it turned out, he sought them out long before he was even thinking in that direction. He needed to be in motion, years of traveling leaving their unquestionable mark on his soul. He offered his services again, and was welcomed back with warm, embracing arms. He was no longer a State Alchemist, but was placed in the research squad, still studying alchemy even though he couldn't perform it. He spent most of his time in Central, and even bothered getting a house for him and Winry to live at, but was still traveling frequently – to the neighboring countries on the west or crossing the borders to the east; but it was still not enough.

Winry had sensed that; she was good with that sort of things. She was asking him what was wrong and even guessed right several times, but he never betrayed the truth, dismissing her with lame excuses of a bad day at work and a kiss. It worked, for a while, but then they started fighting. It was alright at first, the usual lover's quarrel that could turn out very loud, especially since it was the two of them involved, and usually he didn't come out of these squabbles with no harm. She had a damn good aim, his lady, and with her occupation as a mechanic there were always sharp or heavy objects around that could find their way to his stomach. Or legs. Or head.

Then, it started getting worse. There was no more physical violence. Even their arguments became less ferocious, and he stopped receiving scoldings from Mustang about police reports that claimed they weren't exactly the best kind of neighbors. But the lack of yelling and shouting and flying mechanical equipment didn't mean they were getting along better. On the contrary, they were becoming distant.

Ed started asking for more missions and researches that forced him to get out of the country, usually dragging his stay there longer than it had to be. He sensed the worried looks and recognized the gentle, cautious questions but he always evaded them, grinning widely and murmuring vacant assurances that everything was okay. It became more difficult when the rumors started blooming, being revealed to him little by little and eventually forming a whole picture.

It hurt, but he really had no one to blame but himself. He never really bothered to spend time with Winry anymore, rarely even stayed at home. Obviously, their sex life was a distant memory by now, so how could he blame Winry for looking for other ways to satisfy her needs? If he wasn't present, and showed her no signs of attempting to come back, it was only logical she'd eventually fall into the arms of another lover.

He tried not to think about it. It wasn't difficult when he was away, but when he slept at home it was nearly impossible not to imagine this bed being occupied by another man. He lay awake in his bed, looking at the slumber coated body laying next to him and pictured another set of hands, probably whole and perfect and unscarred caressing that soft skin. He could hear the sounds she was making at the touch; was she still reacting the same? With her high pitched voice that was almost a squeal if he touched the right places, with just the right amount of tenderness and force, a harmony he used to know so well but wasn't so sure he still remembered. He looked at her face, and wondered; did it twist with pleasure when that other man stroked her, kissed her, fucked her?

She had promised him to give him her whole, but he couldn't accept that. It wasn't equivalent exchange. He merely gave her half of his heart, but it wasn't because he wanted to, it was because the other half was worthless. As time passed by, that half gave into the rotting and shrank, eventually leaving her with almost nothing. Of course she'd backed away from her part of the deal, when he wasn't really there in first place.

The problem was that he wasn't the kind of man who admitted his failure. He could take the blame when thrown at him, face the truth bravely and without backing away; he'd acknowledge his fault, and place it as his first priority to fix his wrongs. But he could never look at what he had set as a goal and declare his defeat.

Sometimes, however, one must face a lost cause.

He got up from the bed, being careful as to not wake the woman sleeping there, peacefully, probably dreaming of something nice. Something that wasn't _him_. As silently as he could he paced across the room, grabbed a set of clothes and left.

He changed in the living room, making sure he was well covered. It was a pleasant summer night, but it was still rather cool during these hours outside, the few hours before dawn were always the darkest and coldest, especially as they neared autumn.

The front door squeaked a little in a soft protest as Ed opened it and stepped outside, closing it behind him with a soft sigh. He was tired, exhausted; but he couldn't sleep. Not with these thoughts haunting his restless mind; but maybe a walk could calm him down.

Central's streets were clear. No sane person would be outside at such a time, and on a weekday nonetheless. The rustling sound of the leaves on the arrayed trees was his only company, whispering above his head in a comforting clatter, messy and chaotic like a reflection of his thoughts. Something had to be done; he had no idea what it was, but he couldn't let things lay the way they were. He knew that Winry wasn't happy. Even if she did find a lover while he was gone, which was a safe assumption, then she probably felt bad for having to hide. He knew her well enough to know that her kind heart won't accept his absence as an excuse of cheating, and she was probably splitting inside, torn between her conscience that urged her that she was breaking a vow, and her brain that told her she was doing nothing wrong. Ed could only imagine the pain she was feeling, and he could only blame himself. She didn't deserve that, she didn't deserve _him_, but someone who could love and cherish her like he hoped he could but now knew was not an option.

No. He must set her free, unchain her from the shackles he trussed her in. He paused, tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat – no longer his trademark red one, but a dark brown cloth that was more suited for his adult self – and looked up at the dark skies. Central was too bright with artificial lights to show any stars, but his gaze stared beyond that, and he'd spent enough time in God-forsaken places to be able to picture the image they created. He knew enough to be able to locate them, roughly assuming their correct location according to the time of the year, but it was useless information. Pieces of nothingness that filled his mind instead of what should have been there. He sought for an answer, wordlessly asking the dark canvas for any kind of clue, something to help him make up his mind, gather the courage and do what he had to do; there was nothing there.

Ed let out a sigh and lowered his gaze, resuming his stride without bothering to pay any attention to it, and let out a startled cry when he bumped into something solid. His instincts immediately sparked into life, and his muscles tensed as prepared himself for a fight.

His fist was caught mid-movement and he jerked his stare up, expecting to see an enemy, but instead his gaze was met with a fierce set of dark eyes that were examining him with curiosity.

"You should be more careful, Fullmetal."

The cold, even voice was all it took to let Ed regain a sense of the reality and grasp the present. He snatched his hand back as if he was electrified, tucking it in his pocket again. He wasn't cold, but he didn't know what else to do with it, still too tense to simply let it hang at the side of his body.

"What do you want?" he snapped at the older man. The title wasn't fitting anymore; both his arms were flesh and he wasn't an alchemist, but the name had stuck to him and he didn't feel the need to correct that. It was yet another reminder of who he used to be, when there was still a meaning in his life and he was still someone with significance to the world.

Mustang stared at him, his expression changing from a sneer to indifference. "Nothing. I was just having a walk. It's dangerous here at such an hour, Edward. You shouldn't be walking alone being so distracted. If I were something dangerous – "

Oh, damn that bastard and his stupid worry. He was always the same, ever since Ed remembered working under him; that fucking concern for his well being, pretending he actually cared. Before, when he was still a boiling teenager, he'd scream at him. Their fights had been notorious, and everybody knew not to get near either of them when the shouts were echoing in the corridors of Central Command, fearing being caught in the fire. Ed's temper was always short, but was even shorter when his commander was around, and anyone who dared ask was immediately attacked by his alchemy. He never really hurt anyone, but time and time again his wage had been cut off to pay for the repairs. When he signed up again, though, he was already much more matured, and the annoying remarks were met with equally cold comebacks. There was no longer the danger of being stabbed by an alchemical spear, but Ed spared no one of the sharp blade of his tongue when he was set in the mood, and Mustang had a natural talent for that.

"Then I'd beat the shit out of your face," he cut abruptly into his commander's words. "What the fuck are you doing here now? Aren't you supposed to be asleep, getting ready for another day of annoying the hell out of everyone?"

Roy narrowed his eyes at him. "It's a waste being lost in sleep when there's such a fine evening, don't you think?"

Edward's eyebrow rose in doubt, and reflexively he withdrew into himself, bringing his hands closer to his body and thus tightening his coat as a protection from the cold. "I have no idea what you're talking about, it's fucking freezing."

"Why are you out here, then?"

The question, even though was predictable, surprised Ed. He didn't expect the bastard to care; outside the office they were nothing. Acquaintances, at most, but they had no obligation towards each other once they shed the military clothes and crawled into citizenship, and as far as Ed cared, they could pass each other and not even say hello. Of course, though, Mustang had different ideas on the matter.

Ed pouted, and turned to look at something else – the trees, the pavement he was standing on, a goddamned street lamp – anything but the man standing in front of him. His presence and his questions threw Ed off balance, irritating him more than he was willing to take. He most definitely wasn't in the mood for dealing with him right now, too tired and too absorbed in his own swirl of thoughts to care about anything else.

"None of your business," he snapped back eventually, and was terrified to hear the vibration of emotions in his voice – anger, pain, doubt, sadness, exhaustion, disbelief – it was all there, spread open for the word to see. He took a step backwards, as if creating distance might repair the damage his lack of control caused, but it was hopeless. Roy's face already changed in alarm, deep lines of concern curving into the smooth canvas of his skin.

"Ed, I know that something happened. You hadn't been yourself in years, and I want you to know that I'm right here if you need anyone to talk to. I wasn't going to bring that up but – "

"Then don't."

The request was soft, more like a plea than an order. Ed's eyes were now lowered to the ground; he couldn't take much of it anymore. The sound of Mustang's voice, so worried and upset because of him made him think about all the wrongs he was doing. He was hurting everyone around him, and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The damage he'd caused to his relationship with Winry was beyond repair, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to try. There was no point; he was just going to hurt her again. Alphonse had been away most of the time, choosing the life of a scholar over anything else and it fit him perfectly. They were drawn farther from each other; still very close, closer than regular siblings usually were, and he was still the only person Ed felt he could really, unconditionally trust. But he was far away now, too absorbed in his studies for Ed to disturb him. His colleagues in the army had been nothing more than an obstacle until now, but they still cared about him. He knew that for them, he was still the young, idealist alchemist boy he was when he first joined them, with a glorious cause and undeniable philosophy, and for them he achieved his goal and should live happily now with the girl he cared about and a flesh and bone brother to count on. Except for the rumors he knew were slithering around, they shouldn't be able to know how fucked up his life really were right now. It was pointless to tell anyone anyway; there was no way he could fix this one, and allowing other people into his little drama will just cause more pain and discomfort. He didn't need their sympathy. He was stronger than that, dealing with every strike his fate had cast at him without flinching, always on his own and reacting with a solid blow and never, ever giving up or letting other people in on his own mess.

He was startled when a hand found rest on his shoulder, strong and reassuring and comforting, and his gaze shot up; Roy was much closer now. He probably approached while Ed was distracted by his own gloomy thoughts, and his dark eyes were mercilessly penetrating him, reading him without permission.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ed asked, the words slipping from his lips in something that was almost a hiss. There was no more than a foot separating them and he felt uncomfortable being so close to his commander, but he made no move to get away. His breathe caught in his throat, his heartbeats speeding up, betraying the tension he felt inside.

It had been a while since he'd let anyone be this close to him without punching or kicking, with the sole exception of Winry. But she was always an exclusion, and she felt so different now anyway. They were sleeping in the same bed but avoiding touches, side by side but still miles away. The last time they touched in a way that was even close to be worthy of the word 'intimate' had been months ago, maybe even longer, and the sensation was alien to him by now, threatening but still fascinating, a sense of familiarity that allured him to stay and demand more.

"You look so shaky."

The answer was so plain, so simple it took Ed by surprise and he looked at Roy, seeing him for the first time. He now could see that Roy didn't have his usual mask of professionalism on, and he noticed the blackness under his eyes, indicating that sleep wasn't one of his close allies lately; was it work that kept him awake, piling files of reports and operations that demanded his attention? Perhaps something in his personal life, troubles with his girlfriend of wife or… Ed paused at that thought; truth was, he'd never seen Roy with a lady, and whenever the subject came up Roy never mentioned anyone special in his life. Sure, there were the occasional flings but had Ed ever witnessed anyone being able to get close to the man? The answer was probably no.

So that couldn't be the reason, either. But if so, what drew those shadows under his eyes?

Ed narrowed his eyes. "So are you," he blurted out. If Mustang allowed himself to recede to personal lines, then so could he. Taking the accusation and throwing it at something else, pointing out a different foul and leading the attention there instead of allowing it to linger on him – that was a tactic he already perfected during the twenty two years of his life, never really being the kind to share his ache and claim empathy.

"Don't change the subject, Ed. You've been walking around like a shadow for two years now. Let me help you out for a change. Please?"

Something clicked inside Ed; there was something about the desperate voice Roy was using, rendering him so defenseless in a way Ed had never seen him before. The simple plea shook his insides, turning him upside down in a way he thought he'd lost and won't be able to find again. There was something different here, now, than what he had been able to feel ever since that emptiness devoured him, and it was like someone had lifted the heavy veil that covered his soul, allowing faint light in, little by little.

"Why do you even care?" he asked, no longer aggressive but curious and doubtful; but even now he couldn't smooth the edges of his voice. His curiosity changed into anger when no answer came, and he opened his mouth to say something cold, already feeling the fangs of indifference tightening their hold on his soul but the words were caught back when Roy pulled him towards him, his arms being wrapped around Ed's body like a protective cocoon. Ed gasped, the air drawn from his lungs in a single sharp stroke. For a moment he didn't move, his hands clenched inside his coat's pockets, his muscles protesting at the unfamiliarity of the touch.

"Roy…" he started when the initial shock lifted off, making place for confusion and distress. He wasn't sure he understood what was happening; that was General Mustang, his commanding officer and the closest man to the Fuhrer except the Fuhrer himself. He was the cold, well calculated man who dropped meaningless assignments on him and expected him to execute them flawlessly and scolded him when he was late to deliver his reports. The same man who did nothing but annoy the fuck out of him pretty much whenever he came close enough to be seen, and Ed had done his best to do the same, perhaps out of some childish stubbornness, perhaps for a different reason, but the outcome was the same altogether: Mustang was the last person he expected to hug him.

The awkwardness was coating his voice like honey and rendering itself audible, making his voice sound desperate, and he was surprised to hear it, disgusted at the faint pleading of his tune. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat before continuing. "What are you doing?"

"You looked like you'd collapse if someone didn't catch you. I'll let go if you ask me to," came the answer, the eerie, even voice drifting in the air around him like snow; freezing him and igniting fire within him at the same time. His eyes flashed open at that and he could feel the rush of heat in his cheeks, familiar and yet so uncanny and out of place, something he should cherish, but throw away and never think about again.

Logic claimed that was exactly what he was supposed to do; to get his hands out of his pockets and shove the damn bastard away from him, but something within him broke at those soft words, a wall that he'd built, knowingly and deliberately nourishing it, almost consciously pushing everyone away from him and enclosing himself in the little cage he'd created. His soul longed for that wicket to open and allow an escape, being trapped for too long behind the veil he'd created, and it reached out and pushed his common sense aside, mercilessly claiming his mind as its own and forcing its way on him.

Ed let out a sigh and allowed his body to relax, going almost limp in the other man's arms; but that lasted no longer than a second before he tensed again and raised his palms against the firm body against him. He had to gather all his strength to push the need of another warm body next to him, a need that was blind to the circumstances and the identity of the body owner; it didn't matter that it was _Mustang_, he didn't care he was another _man_, and a real asshole at that. Something inside him protested at that, claimed that something was different now, that the Mustang of the office and the man holding him now were to completely distinct beings, with different motives and different priorities, and it made his movement so weak it neared pathetic.

"I'm _fine_," he repeated the mantra he had already overused, knowing the words were empty and meaningless, removed of their credibility for anyone who bothered looking at them a little deeper than their outer glaze, but he said it anyway. "I don't need your goddamned p – "

A cold finger placed over his lips silenced him softly, and he could taste the slight saltiness of Roy's skin. An urge built inside of him, to bite that digit and take it into his mouth and warm it up with his own heat, and he was shocked at the thought. He took a step back, only to be stopped by Roy's other arm that still kept him in his place. _What the fuck_? Where on earth did that feeling come from? The questions echoed in his mind, repeating themselves over and over again in assorted phrasing, each one different but meaning the same altogether. Why?

He'd never felt any kind of attraction to men. He always believed he was completely into women; hell, the only person he ever saw himself spending his life with was Winry. But all of that changed over a year ago. He never thought of it, but did the lack of their initial allure mean anything more? Was it even possible? And how could he have not noticed it?

Sure, it was as clear as the sun that Mustang was a handsome man. An attractive man, and it was known all over their office that he didn't have any troubles finding a partner to warm his bed. He never settled; well over thirty years of his life have passed and he showed no signs of even attempting to find a wife. But he never really talked about his conquers. Ed never thought anything of it; if it wasn't for the fact that they all knew Winry well enough so she was almost as a part of the army as himself he'd probably never bring her up in a conversation, and he didn't think it meant he didn't love her or wasn't proud of her but simply because he believed his private life should remain private and separated from his work life.

But the way the General was acting now, stripped from authority and invading his personal space with no remorse, touching him intimately in a way even Winry didn't touch him anymore made him rethink the entire image of Roy Mustang. He was holding him close and his voice was soft, way too soft to be appropriate for an officer to talk to his subordinate. Ed looked at the other man, more inspecting now. He definitely wasn't the same man of the office; he'd noticed it earlier, when they just started this awkward conversation but now he noticed something more. There was nothing friendly in the way Roy looked at him now; his eyes were too dark for that, a flicker of something completely different adorning them. He'd almost forgot how to recognize that, but now that he thought about it the answer was _there_, loud and clear and as obvious as the sun on a bright summer day.

Who'd thought… Maybe _that_ was the reason Roy had never spoken about any of his partners at work, and never seemed to even think about settling down. General Roy Mustang was into men; and by the looks of it, right now he was into _him_.

But what was he going to do about it?

His body reacted on its own, perhaps just reacting to a kind of touch it longed for in too long, and he shouldn't read more into it and more importantly, should do nothing about it. There was no point in leading Roy on if all it was for him was just one night of forbidden passion. He wasn't that kind of a man; he never said anything unless he meant it – with the obvious exception of claiming he was fine, but he had a bloody good reason to lie. He wasn't the kind of man who'd lure a girl into his bed with empty promises, and that was also why he never cheated on Winry. Not even when he was at the same city for months and got to know its people, and was approached by several ladies who were fascinated by his foreign features. He was always straight-forward: _I have a woman who waits for me at home_, even when he already knew she probably wasn't really waiting. A one night stand wasn't going to satisfy him, and he knew himself well enough to know that the guilty pleasure would haunt him forever.

"Roy," he said, intending to ask him to let him go and make it clear there was nothing to hope for; but instead of firm and decisive his voice came out weak and needy, and before he could say anything more Roy closed the short distance that still separated them and captured his mouth in a kiss. It was soft but desperate, strange and familiar altogether. Ed felt the roughness of Roy's lips – they were dry and tattered, scraping against his own. It had been long since he'd been kissed, and the only people who ever kissed him were Winry and his mother, and neither felt so coarse against his skin, and yet there was a tenderness to it he recognized and ached for. He closed his eyes, unable to resist the sensation, and he could taste the flavor of Roy's mouth – bittersweet, like Caper and honey mixed together in a strange fusion Ed somehow had the feeling was unique to Roy. He could taste traces of Whisky in the other man's mouth, blending with his natural taste that was so alien to him, strange but captivating.

Something broke inside him, something so primal and instinctive he had no idea it existed within him. His body reacted on its own, allowing this and cooperating without his permission and he heard himself moan lightly when it was no longer just lips pressed against each other but the wet touch of Roy's tongue pressed against his mouth, demanding more and he parted his lips slightly, submissively. He felt Roy caressing his lower lip for a short moment before he ventured inside his mouth, exploring and stroking and tasting. Ed felt himself arching a little, leaning into Roy, and he was just as curious to feel the other man's mouth. Something inside him screamed, rioting against what was happening and begging for logic to kick in, and Ed knew it was right. This, whatever that was, was wrong. He believed he couldn't feel love or, anything similar to it anymore, believed he was too rotten inside for anything to bloom in the darkness of his soul; otherwise he'd be able to be a better lover to Winry, he would have manage to fix whatever was broken between the two of them and live his life normally. But it was impossible.

_Maybe _this_ is the reason_. The thought materialized inside his mind, challenging and confusing. Maybe Winry wasn't the right person for him. He felt something towards her; but maybe, back then when he was still seventeen, he mistook friendship and gratefulness for something else entirely. He tried to think of his past, ran all his meetings with Mustang through his mind in a frantic search of reason, but logic was as far from him as the skies from the earth, a taboo banned from his mind when pleasure and need took over. It was as if a dam inside him broke, and all the emotions and feelings it held inside gushed out, flowing and drowning anything that wasn't Roy. Sparks of desire ran through his spine as thrill spread through his body, invading every muscle and bone and polluting him with heaven's illicit poison. _This_, that overwhelming feeling was what he was looking for all this time, seeking in vain and left frustrated and drained.

When Roy ended the kiss and allowed some distance between them again the magic broke, leaving Ed panting and puzzled, a sound that was almost a whimper escaping his throat at the loss of contact. His body ached with yearning he hadn't felt in years, and never this intense. It was like his entire being was lit on fire, and it burnt and consumed everything he had ever believed in, rendering him helpless and speechless. It was new to him; he could probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he was left without words.

Roy's hand, gentle and caring, went up to Ed's face, pushing a stray lock away and tucking it behind his ear in an intimate gesture, simple yet invading and comforting. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," the words were carried by soft wind, breaking the silence that lay between them, threatening to break them with the slightest disturbance. "I thought… I thought you'd be forever out of reach."

The simple confession was honest and bare, portraying the older man as vulnerable as Ed felt. It was plain and unadorned, but it still meant everything right now. However, the effects of lust and need started fading, allowing reason to resume its rightful place. He swallowed, trying to make the strange feeling and taste that filled his mouth disappear. The taste of Roy lingered in his mouth, and so did the bitter tang of liquor. His mind worked fast, calculating and reaching the one unmistakable conclusion.

"You're drunk, Roy, you've no idea what you're doing," he said, his voice betraying the hurt he felt at the revelation. Of course; that was just his luck. Realizing something as huge as that feeling that burnt his guts to annihilation just a moment ago, only to find that the cause was nothing more than the after effects of intoxication. Well then, it was probably for the best. What kind of good could bloom from such a thing? He was a subordinate, a male, and currently still in a relationship, even though that last part won't last long. No matter what happens in the future with Mustang, what he'd been doing for years now was unfair to Winry. She deserves much better, she deserves so much more than what he has to offer; he hoped that the man she had been seeing when he wasn't around could provide her with that, and he wanted to let her enjoy it all without the burning leash of guilt.

"I might have been drinking a little, but it's going to take a lot more than a couple of glasses of Whiskey to make me blind to you, Edward." Roy's voice was quiet and calm, a complete contrast to the shaking declaration he bestowed just a moment earlier. There was nothing unsure about him: as if on cue, Roy's words made him abandon the insecurities and pleading aside, replacing them with the self confidence that belonged to General Mustang. Ed learned, as time passed by, to allow that voice to calm him down and assure him that no matter what, there was a plan and it was going to work, even through the darkest times of war, when they were fighting the evil plan of the Homunculi, and it wasn't any different now. "I never did or said anything simply because I thought there would be no way you might feel the same, and I know how much you care… even if you try to show you don't. You were my subordinate, and then you had Winry…. I thought I had no room in your life, even when you asked to join the army again… What just happened has nothing to do with my drinks, the hour or the _now_; it's something I've been thinking for years."

Ed's voice as he answered Roy's words was befuddled, but it didn't even start to convey the confusion that filled his thoughts. "Why now then?"

The older man let out a sigh, and his hand left Ed's face; but he still stood close, not moving away. "Because I'm selfish," he said, his dark eyes piercing through the blonde's golden ones, the honesty in them penetrating his soul. "It's not a secret that you and Winry aren't doing well. The rumors, your requests for long and far missions, it's not hard to guess. Then I see you walk here alone in the middle of the night, and you looked so miserable, Ed, I couldn't just leave you be. I'd understand if you'd say you're not interested. Just say the word and I won't mention what we shared never again. I've kept it to myself for all these years, I have no problem leaving it at that. I'd be disappointed, but I'm not going to talk you into anything you're not interested in." There was a slight pause in Roy's words, as if he wasn't believing this was happening, that he was actually expressing these thoughts out loud: and Ed had to relate to that feeling: what the hell was Mustang saying here, exactly?

"Roy…" he started, but had no idea how to continue that, and instead of talking he lowered his eyes to the ground. What exactly did he want to say? Was there anything he _could_ say?

"I'm telling you all of this as a friend, Ed. As a man, a civilian, not as a General. I don't want you to feel obliged to anything just because at work you work under me, it doesn't mean I'm trying to pull my rank on you now. If you say no… I won't hold it against you in any way, so I don't want you to feel pressured in any way."

"Like I care about that," Ed blurted before he could stop himself. "Since when do I listen to your orders anyway?"

Roy took a step back, his lips stretching in a somewhat sad smile. "Gives you more power over me than the other way around, really," he agreed, but his words had a light hue of defeat. He took Ed's comment as a turn-down.

Did he want to turn him down?

Sure it would be easier, simpler: everything would go back to how it was, with him taking the missions the other man gave him, traveling and running away from his own life. But he couldn't shake the lingering feeling of what just happened: the thrill that flowed through his body when he kissed Roy back, darting through him like a lightning bolt; he couldn't shove the thoughts that filled his mind at that moment when they shared more than feelings. What if, after all this time, _this _was what he was looking for, but had been too blind to see? Is he willing to give up that chance? It could be so easy…

He looked up when the air around him changed, and he saw that Roy took another step back, increasing the distance between them, now becoming almost too far to reach out to. It would end soon, and everything would fall back to its rightful place. But the puzzle was built wrong; the pieces fit, but only roughly, being forcefully pushed together. Taking each one out and building it again would be a huge effort, perhaps impossible: he wasn't sure if the force didn't already ruin them beyond recognition, or if there was a right way to put them together at all.

"I won't abuse it," he said quietly, his voice soft. He raised his eyes to meet Roy's, and saw the baffled expression that adorned them. He'd already missed on so many opportunities in his life, and they were already screwed up, perhaps beyond repair. He had nothing to lose. The decision had been made. "You probably don't know me a tiny bit if you think I'd sabotage your aspirations with something like that. You should really do your research better before you walk around, kissing people."

The expressions on the other man's face changed quickly: from the faint sadness, to confusion, and then, finally, to understanding, almost immediately replaced by a smirk. "I can fix that, if you let me."

Ed took a step forward, closing the distance that Roy parted between them. "I might," he said. He hesitated for a second, but there was no way back now. He leaned forward, closing the remaining gap, and captured Roy's lips in his.

He had no idea if it was a good idea, or if it was going to work out. Ed wasn't even sure if Roy knew the answer to that. But there was nothing that could be taken from him that wasn't already gone. For a brief moment when they shared their first kiss, he had the feeling that there was a whole world of new meaning he'd just found the door to, and that world – that exalted place – might be the right code to decipher his life, and maybe, just maybe, he would find a space for him to rest, and finally be genuinely happy.

**THE END**

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**A/N:** Thank you for spending your time reading this! Please devote a minute longer to leave me a review and let me know what you thought of it. I would appreciate it very much. :)


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